


Guard Your Heart

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassin's Festival, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: Because the Medjay Assassin's robes couldn't possiblynotinspire Noctis catching Ignis alone in the hotel room.





	Guard Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> lol i wrote porn again

The nights at Lestallum are never brisk, and they would have no chance with the press of people who never seem to sleep at the Assassin’s Festival. Noctis vaguely wishes his hands were at least cool, as he sidles up behind Ignis and slips his hands onto his exposed skin. At it is, he still feels Ignis stiffen and then relax, head turning back towards him in greeting.

“Noct. Back so soon?”

He stoops over, resting his chin on Ignis’s shoulder. “Yeah. Prompto’s checking out the chocobos, I came back ahead of him.” He lets his hands slide up and under the swath of fabric crisscrossing Ignis’s torso. “He’ll be a while.”

“Unsurprising.” Ignis breathes in deeply. “I chanced passing Wiz near the racetrack. I’m sure they’ll have a conversation.”

“Yeah.” His fingers press into warm skin, sweep a path along one of his ribs. “Gladio?”

“Attempting to impress one of Lestallum’s finest, I’m sure.”

“He’ll be a while?”

“Indubitably.”

“Fantastic.”

He pulls his hands free, slipping around to the front of the chair. Ignis’s card game is forgotten. He leans back in his chair; Noctis moves forward to straddle his knees.

“It’s not bad,” Ignis agrees, hands settling against his hips. “I enjoy it.”

Noct just happens to beam. “Do you?” He leans forward, bracing his fingertips on his chest. “I do too.”

“As you say, fantastic,” Ignis says, and doesn’t wait for Noctis to make the first move.

He wonders if wearing these robes does the same thing to Ignis as it does to him. Seeing him like this. He had chosen to rent a costume identical to the rest of them, rather than wear his own master robes. He doesn’t regret it; it’s too hot in Lestallum and he’s heard multiple people complaining about the heat. He has a heat of his own kind simmering beneath his skin, exacerbated by the way Ignis’s hand splays against the small of his back and urges him further up his lap.

He decides that it must, because Ignis’s mouth is not gentle, and that is precisely the way that Noctis likes it. It doesn’t happen regularly. Lack of substantial clothing _must_ be the deciding factor. Ignis bites his lip and Noct gasps, and then lets his head fall back to allow Ignis access down his neck.

Even if their companions will be a long while, it doesn’t matter. His lips feel swollen from kissing and Ignis’s are a pleasant pink to match the flush on his cheeks; Noct is gripping bruises into one of his arms when Ignis’s hand finally slides down to push the mess of fabric out of way of his lap and pass firmly over the tent in his trousers.

His head falls back again, and he is fairly sure that his eyes roll in his head, too.

Ignis, make no mistake, does know how to and possesses the ability to tease, especially when it involves a horny raven-haired prince, but today is an exception. The warm press of his hand along skin that makes Noctis moan– unabashedly, there is no one to hear except Ignis and he has never minded him being loud– and then he is deftly parting and tugging at the complicated clothing until Noctis’s cock is in his hand.

A groan, and a shudder, and Noct finds strength to fix a look on Ignis. “I want you in me,” he whines. He doesn’t mind the grip around his cock, always firm, never faltering, but it hadn’t been what he’d had planned.

“Don’t be petulant,” Ignis replies, and a flick of a thumb over the head effectively cuts off Noctis’s complaints. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

How had Ignis suddenly turned the tables on him? _He_ had started this out with his hands on Ignis’s exposed– oookay, the tables had been turned because he’s rushing headlong into fast and light strokes and Noctis whines, arching into his hand and slamming both hands down on his shoulders.

“This isn’t fair to _you_ ,” he protests, though it’s weak. They’ve had this conversation before.

Ignis never seems to mind. “I’m getting plenty of satisfaction, don’t you worry,” he says, and Noctis’s noise of discontent as he slows is muffled by a kiss that is increasingly insistent.

“You always… _say_ that.”

“You should listen to your elders, then.”

He chokes on a laugh, gets a hand in Ignis’s hair. He wants him close, wants him near him and against him and _in him_ , but the hand working his cock and the mouth against his is close enough, and good, and better. Or something. “I’ll blow you later,” he promises, and Ignis’s responding look is positively salacious.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You’d better.” His sarcasm is fading fast; the softest brush of pressure against his balls makes him whimper, like a breath of air, there and gone. But he still isn’t teasing, not exactly; these are the things that Noctis likes and _wants_ and curses him for simultaneously. “Please,” he says, mouths. He doesn’t know if the words are vocal.

It doesn’t matter. Ignis always knows. All the Astrals bless his soul, he is _fucking amazing_ –

Noct realizes belatedly he’s mumbling those words against Ignis’s mouth, too. He’s too focused on thrusting into Ignis’s grip, and how the fingers hold and caress and _twist_ , sweet mother of Shiva–

His hand fists around Ignis’s hair. He hears Ignis make a noise but it barely goes noticed over the exclamation he muffles against his advisor’s mouth. The orgasm rushes through him in a way that almost feels like the Leap of Faith from earlier. But better. All the heart-pounding exhilaration and sweat prickling his skin and trust, and a cascade of love and adoration as Ignis’s hands, sticky with his own come, frame his face.

It is _I love you_ without words, because Noct has never needed to hear them. They still share them, regularly, but he’s known for a long time. Ignis’s loyalty never fails to rattle him to his core, and he repays the favor in kind.

It’s all he can do not to slump forward to put his head on Ignis’s shoulder. “No fair,” he says, and he has to unstick his tongue from the roof his mouth. He smiles lethargically. “ _I_ was supposed to rile you up.”

“You did,” Ignis murmurs, and the little sly smile continues to tug at his lips. “Spectacularly.”

Yes, Noctis is aware of the tent at the front of his trousers, too. He fully intends to keep his promise and take care of him. In just a moment, when he can move off of Ignis’s lap without fear of tipping over to plant his face onto the floor. “You know what I meeaaannnnt.”

“You’ll just have to repay the favor, then. Sucking me off, I believe?” His eyes are _still_ gleaming with humor. Noctis wants to tell him to wipe that look off his face, but it’s too gorgeous to look at.

“Oh yeah. ‘s gonna be the best blowjob you’ve had. I’ll have you _begging_.” It is not a tall order.

Ignis schools his expression into something carefully blank. He even tones the emotion down in his eyes, somehow, a master of forced propriety when the need calls. “Highness,” he says, and his voice is decidedly _not_ blank. _“Please.”_ His eyes are dark, the green eclipsed by black until there’s only a ring of color left. There’s come on the red sash of his robes. He’s beautiful.

Noctis’s descent from his lap is not graceful, and neither are his fingers plucking at the fabric of his trousers. But he will give him the best damn blowjob he’d just promised.

It’s Ignis’s turn for submission, and he has every intention to deliver.

**Author's Note:**

> non porny fic about the robes coming soon


End file.
